


And forever is like this; endless, but definite

by angelichl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alpha Harry, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, I'm Sorry, Kinda, Lots of Crying, M/M, Omega Louis, harry is always crying, yay here it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 04:37:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12473656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelichl/pseuds/angelichl
Summary: The sequel toLove is like this; not a heartbeat but a moanin which Louis and Harry figure things out.





	And forever is like this; endless, but definite

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am with the sequel... I'm so sorry about the mass amounts of crying in this, I don't know why that happened. So much crying.
> 
> Additional warnings: almost sexual assault - the beginning starts with a situation in which Louis is cornered by an alpha, but a stranger steps in and pulls the alpha away. If you have any questions or worries please feel free to talk to me! And if I forgot to tag anything please tell me immediately. Thanks!
> 
> As always, please do not violate the system of trust by sharing this work of fiction with anyone related to the people mentioned.
> 
> (The title again is based off of Nicole Sealey's poetry.)
> 
> Enjoy!

 

_Let us roam the night together,_   
_in an attempt to catch the stars that drop._

\- Nicole Sealey, "Cento for the Night I Said 'I Love You'"

 

 

 

 

****

Harry is worried.

 

Louis has been gone for more than the average time it takes to piss, and, well.

 

He shouldn’t be worried. Louis is fine. He can handle himself. He knows how to get to the bathroom from Theater 9 and there’s honestly no way to get lost—it’s just a long, straight hallway. Harry sinks back into his seat and forces himself to watch what’s happening on the screen. His mind has been wandering for the past few minutes in Louis’ absence, and now he’s helplessly lost and can’t understand what’s happening in the film.

 

Harry is worried but everything is fine. Everything is fine. Right? He tries to focus on the movie, but finds that he can’t focus on anything except Louis.

 

Louis, his sorta-boyfriend who is _missing_.

 

The alpha stands up abruptly and shuffles down the row of seats before hurrying down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. He trips at the bottom and nearly face plants into the last row of chairs but catches himself at the last second. With the momentum from his fall he flings himself around the corner and practically runs down the pathway, bursting through the door that leads out to the main hallway. No time to waste now that he’s already up and out of his seat.

 

And then—

 

He scents it. Louis’ smell, the lovely sweetness he has been obsessed with for years, the lovely sweetness he has only just recently been intimately acquainted with. Flowers and sunshine and love. The aroma, on its own, typically calms Harry, washing over him with a sense of languid tranquility and peace. At night, when they sleep together he likes to press his nose into the crook of Louis’ and do nothing but inhale his sweet scent and leave gentle kisses on his skin. Whenever Louis can’t stay overnight at Harry’s flat, for whatever reason, be it work or familial obligations, the only way Harry can fall asleep is with his face pressed into one of Louis’ jumpers, and his pillow locked tightly in Harry’s arms. Harry loves Louis’ scent almost as much as he loves Louis.

 

But something is _wrong_.

 

The sweetness is mixed with something dirty. Something gross. Heavy and musky and oppressive. The scent of another alpha.

 

Mixed with Louis’ scent.

 

With his heart threatening to explode out of his chest, and his stupid alpha instincts yelling at him to set the entire building on fire and destroy whichever alpha is close to Louis, he runs down the hall towards the bathrooms, holding his breath so the scent doesn’t make him any crazier than he already is.

 

It’s hard, though, to avoid breathing in, since he’s essentially fighting against primal instinct. And in his mind right now there are only a few elementary thoughts: the word _protect_ , and, of course, _Louis_.

 

As he approaches the bathroom he throws hesitation to the wind, hurling himself inside.

 

And God. Thank God. Louis is there, alive, maybe not well but alive, and that is a relief, thank God, thank God.

 

Louis is sitting on the floor of the bathroom, knees pulled to his chest, his back against the wall. Harry stares at him for a moment, long enough to see that he’s crying. Then he rushes forward and engulfs Louis in his arms, no hesitation or indecision.

 

“What the fuck happened?” Harry asks, absolutely bewildered because he has never, ever seen Louis cry before. After years of being childhood friends, then distant and cold acquaintances, and finally unofficial boyfriends, he has never seen Louis cry. Never. So it’s easy to imagine why he feels as though the world is crashing down around them right now.

 

“Harry,” Louis sobs, and it comes out kind of like a whimper. And this, well, this is not the strong, acerbic Louis Harry knows. It’s extremely worrisome. He presses his face into Harry’s chest, wetting his t-shirt with tears.

 

“You’re fine, I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he whispers, squeezing Louis tightly, his arms wound around his back. Harry doesn’t know if Louis is fine or if everything’s okay but he says it anyways, and the only certainty is that phrase _I’ve got you_ , because he does, he does, he’s holding on so tightly and he’s afraid to let go.

 

“Harry,” Louis cries again, clinging tighter and making himself small, small, small in Harry’s arms.

 

“What’s wrong baby, what happened?” _Why do you smell all wrong, like another A?_

 

But he just cries and cries and cries and doesn’t respond, too wound up in sobbing into Harry’s chest. Harry has never seen him like this before and he is so frightened and afraid, his mind a maelstrom of thoughts and fears, theories of why Louis is like this, so fragile and broken.

 

So Harry holds him close and lets him crying, letting Louis wrap his legs around Harry’s waist, clinging to him. As Louis cries Harry hears a voice behind him so he turns around and is shocked to see another person standing off to the side. Harry was in such a disoriented rush when he came in that he must’ve completely missed the person.

 

He’s a beta—Harry can immediately tell by his scent, or lack thereof. Harry relaxes a little at the recognition, his heartbeat slowing only minimally when he realizes it isn’t the A who tarnished Louis’ smell, but still holds the omega protectively in his arms.

 

“What the fuck is going on?” Harry asks again, this time to anyone who will answer, either Louis or the beta. His mind is whirling with a maelstrom of confusion and he’s hopelessly desperate for an explanation.

 

“Is he your O?” The guy asks, ignoring Harry’s question. Of course he noticed Louis doesn’t have a mark on his neck—everyone notices and it bothers Harry so much. He knows neither one of them is ready for it even though they act like they’re already bonded. Louis’ strong prejudice against alphas remains and Harry isn’t comfortable biting him at this moment, when it feels more like seduction and coercion rather than real love. Anyways, they haven’t even really discussed it.

 

“Yes,” he answers simply, even though it’s a total lie. “He’s mine.”

 

Louis pulls away enough to hit Harry in the shoulder and glare darkly at him. “I’m not your fucking O you piece of shit,” he hisses, and then goes back to crying into Harry’s shirt.

 

Harry doesn’t know how to respond to that so he ignores it and stares at the beta who stares back at him.

 

“Will you please fucking tell me what happened?” He asks again, very aggravated. No time for patience when the wellbeing of the person he loves most is in question.

 

“An A in his rut pretty much assaulted him, but I heard the struggle and got here just in time to stop anything before it happened,” the beta informs him, speaking calmly like he’s scared Harry is going to lose his mind. Which, well. He might.

 

Harry stares at the stranger and tries to calm down his racing heart. He holds Louis tighter and focuses on the feelings of the O in his arms, warm and soft and safe. He smells all wrong but Harry tries not to let it bother him and instead pays attention to the beating of Louis’ heart against his own.

 

“Where is he now?” Harry asks now, his voice surprisingly collected. Yes, very surprising, considering the rage boiling in his veins.

 

“He ran.”

 

Harry feels sick. There’s a weird tugging feeling on his heart strings. Louis could’ve gotten hurt, very badly. He could’ve been killed. God knows A’s during their ruts are ravenous and unstoppable. He’s lucky Louis is alive and in one piece, seemingly unhurt aside from the momentous emotional trauma that will arise from this. His prejudice against alphas, yet again, is not only understandable but also completely justified.

 

The sick truth is that the A is still out there, probably on his way to assault another omega. Chances are the next one won’t be as lucky as Louis. Harry shudders, suddenly feeling cold, like a draft of chilly air is oppressing him.

 

“Thank you for saving him,” Harry says to the beta, full of gratitude but also that sickening feeling of failure, and the word _saving_ comes out weakly. It’s Harry’s job to protect Louis, and he failed.

 

“You’re welcome,” the B responds cordially, moving out of the way so that Harry can exit the bathroom.

 

With that, Harry steps out of the bathroom and walks briskly down the long hallway of the movie theater, all the while with a crying omega in his arms. They go out the back entrance, movie forgotten, and get into Harry’s car. The drive back to Harry’s flat is depressing to say the least.

 

“Louis?” Harry asks quietly, when they’re parked on the street and the engine is off.

 

Louis doesn’t speak, but turns his head from against the window to gaze at Harry. His eyes are dark, his expression heavy.

 

“What did he do to you?”

 

“He grabbed me from behind and tried to bite me while also trying to take my clothes off.” He says it so calmly, so apathetically, but Harry doesn’t miss the fire behind his eyes. The rage. The fear.

 

There’s not a thing Harry can think of to say that will make the situation any less horrible than it already is, so he just presses his lips into a thin line and watches Louis.

 

“I’m okay, I promise,” Louis supplies quietly, pulling the sleeves of his jumper over his hands and playing with the hem nervously. He tucks his chin down towards his chest like he always does when he’s uncomfortable. “I just kinda need a hug.”

 

“Okay,” Harry says in equal quietness, keeping his eyes locked on Louis’. The eye contact holds a silent conversation that neither one of them is at liberty to convey out loud. It says everything from _I’m so sorry_ to _I love you_ even though neither one of them has said the latter out loud yet. Harry opens the car and steps out of the car, and Louis does too. He meets him on the sidewalk, interlaces their fingers, and guides them inside.

 

In the flat, Louis kicks off his shoes while Harry steps carefully out of his own. Then they stand there, meters apart, a heavy feeling in the air. The sound of the heater kicking on becomes the only background noise.

 

“I hate alphas,” Louis says.

 

Harry encompasses him in his arms, holding him softly. “I know.”

 

“I wish I wasn’t an O.”

 

Harry holds him tighter. “I know.”

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

They hug for a long, long time, just melting into each other. Harry buries his face deep in Louis’ neck and breathes him in until all he can smell is the sweetness of Louis’ scent. Louis ducks his head and makes himself small, fitting into Harry so that he’s encompassed by him. Harry holds him close, arms wound tight around him, protectively. Even alone in the flat, he’s afraid to let him go.

 

After a while Louis pulls away and tells Harry he’s going for a shower. Harry offers to accompany him and Louis declines the proposal, saying he’d rather be alone. Harry understands of course, and doesn’t press.

 

As the sound the shower running fills the otherwise silent flat, Harry gets ready for bed. He changes into comfier clothes, swapping his jeans and Hawaiian shirt for joggers, an old t-shirt, and fuzzy socks. He slips into bed with a book in his hand, intending to read. But when he opens to the page where he left off, he finds he can’t get past a single sentence. The words just meld together into a blur of black type on white paper and none of it makes any sense. So he shuts the book and curls up beneath the duvet instead. He cuddles Louis’ pillow close and tries to chase away the sick feeling in his stomach and the aching feeling in his chest. The injustice of it all is what hurts the most.

 

Louis enters the bedroom an hour later, wrapped up in a fluffy white towel, his wet hair dripping on the wooden floorboards. Wordlessly, he changes into his pajamas and then climbs into bed beside Harry. He curls himself around Harry’s back, wrapping his arms around Harry’s hips and pressing a soft, small palm to Harry’s tummy.

 

He smells like himself again, almost, the sweet and floral and lovely scent, but there’s a bitter smell that lingers in the air as well. It’s so faint. Harry must be imaging it.

 

The omega presses his nose to Harry’s shoulder and leaves a drawn out kiss through the worn fabric of his t-shirt.

 

It isn’t normal for A’s and O’s to sleep like this but Harry doesn’t care. Sometimes he likes to be held and sometimes Louis wants to be the one to hold him, instead of the reverse. It’s a strange act of defiance, an eccentric non-conformist exploit, and as insignificant as it seems, it’s important to Harry. It proves that they are not defined by their biology. This notion, as valid or invalid as it may be, gives them a sense of autonomy and liberty they don’t see anywhere else.

 

Together they fall asleep, with bleary eyes rimmed red. Glistening with tears.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

The next day, Harry wakes up to an empty bed.

 

It isn’t an uncommon occurrence, but even after all these months, the lack of a warm body next to him when he opens his eyes in the morning still unsettles him deeply.

 

Louis is at footy practice, standard for a Friday morning. It takes Harry a moment too long to remember this, but when the recognition crosses his mind he sinks further into the bed, relaxing a bit.

 

He has lecture at ten, so he takes his time making a breakfast of oatmeal, strawberries, and coffee, and enjoys it in the sunshine of the morning, before heading off to class. The entire way there, he observes every stranger who passes, wondering each and every time if the person that passes is the A who almost raped Louis last night.

 

His paranoia doesn’t go away, even when he returns to his flat after his only class of the day. Louis still isn’t there when he gets home, so he busies himself by changing into workout clothes and heading to the gym.

 

The good thing about their relationship is that they can spend time apart without being miserable. Since they’re not soulbonded, neither of them feel the deep pain of separation, and thus they can be apart for hours without any real repercussions. Unlike other couples, they find the independence refreshing, rather than suffocating.

 

Harry wraps his hands with black tape when he gets to the locker room, his knuckles still sore from the last time he went to the gym. When his hands are wrapped to his satisfaction, he heads out to the boxing room and gets to work.

 

The best thing about kickboxing isn’t the fact that it’s something athletic, or even the fact that it’s an outlet for his pent-up energy. The best thing about kickboxing is that it takes his mind off of everything else. When he’s working on his form, tightening his core and throwing punches at the bag, everything else melts away, and for the hour or so that he’s working out, his mind is bright and clear. It’s a nice, needed reprieve from the day’s toils.

 

Today he lets go of all of his anger, pummeling the punching bag relentlessly until one of the guys actually comes over to ask if he’s okay.

 

He nods in response, distracted by beating the living shit out of the object in front of him, before going back in again with a round of particularly forceful hits and kicks.

 

“Seriously, mate, you sure you’re good?” Liam, the alpha who’s always at the gym the same time as Harry, asks.

 

Harry nods again, relenting a bit and stepping back to wipe the sweat off of his face with the hem of his t-shirt. He glances over at the other A and sees the concern on his face.

 

“You’re particularly aggressive today,” Liam points out, clearly not giving up. He looks weary but determined to get Harry to spill whatever’s on his mind. “Is it your O?”

 

Harry rolls his eyes and reaches down for his water bottle. Of course, Liam isn’t wrong. But still. All of his problems seem so trivial when Liam says them out loud.

 

But Harry isn’t exactly at liberty to spill his guts right now. Liam is nice, and they’ve been gym-friends for almost two years now, but their friendship is strictly limited to the gym, and it began as nothing but a cordial acquaintanceship. Still, over the past few months, especially before Louis’ heat debacle, Harry couldn’t help but rant to Liam in between weight repetitions, or when both of them were waiting to use a particular machine. So Liam knows more about Harry’s feelings for Louis than he should.

 

“Yes,” he finally responds, defeated. “Isn’t it always?”

 

Liam laughs. “Right. Wanna talk about it?”

 

“Nope. I’d rather just pointlessly beat the shit out of an inanimate object and pretend it actually solves my problems.”

 

“Suit yourself.”

 

Harry goes back to pummeling the punching bag while Liam does his warm-up stretches silently beside him. A long time passes before Harry becomes tired enough to take a break. He pulls the tape off his hands, and sees his knuckles are rubbed raw from the repeated impact, stinging painfully.

 

“Louis was almost raped last night.”

 

Liam stares at Harry, attentive but not saying anything. He’s giving Harry space to say what he needs to say.

 

“We were at the movies, and he left halfway through to use the loo, and I found him on the floor, sobbing. A beta had gotten there first and pulled the guy off of him, and the A’s friends got him under control and took him home. And, like, I’ve never felt more murderous in my entire life.”

 

Liam grimaces as Harry explains what happened. When he finishes, he comments, “I can’t believe this still happens. It’s 2017. What the fuck.”

 

“I know,” Harry groans, feeling sick all over again. The rage swells in his stomach for a moment, and he fires a stray punch at the bag, the force sending it swaying backwards.

 

“Is Louis okay?”

 

“He says he’s fine, but I can tell he’s really shaken up. I don’t blame him for being traumatized. This shit is so fucked up.”

 

“It is,” Liam agrees. “No one deserves that.”

 

“I know,” Harry groans, crouching down on the ground and then giving up and sprawling out completely, flopping onto his back. He stares at the fluorescent lights, completely done. He’s so angry and sad and he doesn’t know what to do. “Loamy,” he whines, using his nickname for Liam, “what am I going to do?”

 

“You make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

 

Harry covers his face with his hands. “How?” he asks, towards the universe in general. But he already knows how.

 

Liam nudges Harry’s hip with the tip of his shoe. “Well, for starters you can make sure you don’t leave him alone. And on the off chance that he is alone, you can teach him how to defend himself.”

 

Harry sits up abruptly, startled by Liam’s revelation. “That’s a great idea.”

 

“What is?”

 

“Teaching him how to defend himself. So he isn’t reliant on me or anyone else to protect him. I think that’s a really great idea. Why hasn’t anyone done that before?”

 

Liam frowns. “Huh, I dunno. It seems kinda simple, now that I think about it.”

 

“It’s perfect,” Harry gushes, rocketing to his feet and squeezing his friend in a quick, sweaty hug. “Thanks for the idea, Loamy,” and then he’s shuffling to the locker room as quickly as he can, gathering his things and throwing his bag over his shoulder before nearly running home.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

He throws open the door to his flat, feeling enthusiastic and rushed, and he’s pleased to be greeted with the faint scent of Louis that he’s been missing for hours now.

 

“Lou?” He calls out as he’s kicking off his shoes, and he wants to call him something else like _baby_ or _honey_ , but with Louis, terms of endearment are either a hit or a miss and usually it’s better not to risk it. Harry fully understands that it’s a sensitive and sore subject, seeing that those terms can be sort of demeaning and objectifying.

 

“In the kitchen!” Louis chimes.

 

“Hey,” Harry greets enthusiastically, running up to him and engulfing him in a big hug from behind. He doesn’t miss the way Louis flinches.

 

“What’s up?” Louis asks cheerfully, covering up his jumpiness with a quick kiss to Harry’s cheek. It leaves Harry’s skin tingling.

 

“Just got back from the gym,” Harry informs, quite obviously as he’s still all sweaty and in his workout clothes. Louis doesn’t seem to mind as he relaxes back into Harry’s chest. “I was talking to Liam, and he had a really great idea.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“How would you feel about me teaching you some self-defense things? Like, just the basic technique and all that. And then if you like it maybe we can do more and you can be my workout partner,” Harry adds hopefully.

 

“Harry…” Louis warns, pulling out of his arms and turning around to look at him.

 

What?

 

“Why not?” Harry questions, trying not to sound immediately crestfallen. He’s a bit confused, if he’s honest.

 

Louis frowns and looks away, going back to taking the dishes out of the dishwasher and organizing them in the cupboards. He creates a stack of cups as he says, “I don’t know. I mean, that’s stuff I can just google. You don’t need to teach me.”

 

 _What? That doesn’t make any sense_. Now Harry’s frowning. He doesn’t know how to respond. “What do you mean?”

 

Louis huffs, looking frustrated. “What I’m saying is, I don’t need you to protect me, okay? I’ve survived my entire life as an O and I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. Everything is fine.”

 

“But-“ Harry begs to differ. He stutters for a moment trying to organize his thoughts. “But last night…”

 

“I said I’m fine, Harry. You don’t need to do everything for me.”

 

Harry’s mouth opens in shock. “Oh.”

 

He takes a physical step back, and tries to put himself in Louis’ shoes, imagining the life of an omega. What must it be like? What must it be like to be deemed inferior by society and biology?

 

Louis closes the now-emptied dishwasher and makes to leave the room, the conversation effectively ended. Harry searches for a way to stop him.

 

“Wait- Louis. Please, I- Can you explain to me? I’m trying to understand. Please,” he begs.

 

Louis stops and turns around. “Explain what?”

 

“Why you won’t let me teach you self-defense…”

 

Louis sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking distraught but determined to make Harry understand. “Look, Harry. I like you a lot, okay, and I know you’re a ‘good A’ and you have good intentions and all that, but I’m really not looking for someone to pity me or treat me like I can’t take care of myself, okay? That’s not the kind of relationship I want right now, or ever. I need someone who treats me like an equal. What happened last night doesn’t matter, it’s done, it’s over, I’ve moved on. I’m fine. Okay?” And he stares at Harry with his steely blue eyes piercing.

 

Harry feels tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, burning, blurring his vision. He reaches his hands up and paws at them, uncomfortable and sad. His chest is aching. “I’m so sorry,” he rushes out, feeling desperate to make Louis understand. “I- I never meant to make you feel like I don’t think you’re my equal, I’m so sorry. Trust me when I say that, please, I’m sorry, please don’t leave me, I’m so sorry- I just, I’m really worried. I… I don’t want you to get hurt, I don’t want to lose you.”

 

“Harry…” Louis breathes, shaking his head. Harry actually starts bawling then, he can’t contain the tears now, and he slaps his hands over his face in an effort to keep his emotions inside, but clearly it doesn’t work. “Harry… Harry honey, I didn’t mean to upset you…”

 

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” Harry rushes, sniffling and wiping the tears from his eyes frantically. He really wishes he wasn’t crying like a baby right now. And honestly, he doesn’t even know why he’s crying. “I’m so sorry, please let me make it up to you. I didn’t mean to demean you or anything. I just, I want to protect you. Because I like you. A lot.”

 

Warm arms wrap around Harry’s shoulders and squeeze him tightly. “Okay Hazza, I believe you. Just please stop crying.”

 

“Sorry, sorry-“

 

“And stop apologizing,” Louis chastises, running his hands comfortingly up and down Harry’s back. Harry groans internally, thinking it should be him comforting Louis rather than the other way around.

 

“It has nothing to do with who we are,” Harry disagrees, trying to explain himself so that Louis understands he isn’t doing this because he thinks Louis can’t take care of himself. He’s doing this because he loves him, and the words almost slip out of his mouth but he shoves them back in before he can make the fatal mistake of telling Louis _I love you_. Instead, he continues tentatively, “I just, I want to protect you… I want to take care of you…”

 

“Because I’m an O,” Louis argues.

 

“No,” Harry whines, and the words slip out without warning, “because I love you.” And then he slaps his hand over his mouth because he can’t believe he just said that. Fuck.

 

Louis pulls away abruptly, his eyes widening. He stares at Harry, motionless and speechless.

 

“Harry…” he says after a long, awful, awkward pause. His voice is low and warning.

 

“Sorry,” Harry amends, crying harder, hot tears spilling freely down his cheeks now. “I didn’t mean to say that, I know it’s so early and I know you’re not ready for that yet- But- It’s true, I mean it. I promise you I mean it. I want to keep you safe not just because you’re an O but because of _that_.”

 

“Okay honey, I’m sorry, let’s just- Let’s just talk about something else, yeah?” Louis wipes away Harry’s tears with his thumbs, but fresh tears keep falling in their place. He tries on a fake smile and Harry doesn’t like the way it’s insanely forced.

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry whimpers.

 

Louis shakes his head and stands up on his tippy toes to press his lips to Harry’s forehead. “Stop apologizing, baby. Okay?”

 

He nods numbly. Louis looks satisfied enough to let his hands drop.

 

“I’m gonna, um… take a shower,” Harry informs him slowly before shuffling out of the kitchen in order to avoid bursting into tears in front of Louis again.

 

In the bathroom, with the tap running and the door closed behind him, the realization that Louis never said _I love you_ back to Harry hits him hard, like a knife to his heart.

 

When he slips behind the curtain and stands beneath the steaming hot shower, he lets himself break down. With his hand pressed to his mouth to muffle his sobs, he cries and cries and cries.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

There’s a knock at the bathroom door, and Harry has to recollect himself before he answers it.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Hazza, can I come in?”

 

“Umm, yeahhh…” he responds timidly. The door creaks open and footsteps pad along the tile floor, and then the shower curtain is pulled slightly back and Louis steps in beside him.

 

“Hey,” he greets softly, diving in and wrapping Harry in a hug. He squeezes him tightly and rests his chin on Harry’s shoulder, tilting his head to the side so their cheeks brush up against each other.

 

Harry can feel himself hardening at Louis’ bare skin pressed against his own, and Louis’ sweet scent filling the air, and it makes him grit his teeth in frustration. He doesn’t want to be turned on, doesn’t want to be aroused, but his fucking body isn’t listening and he hates this. He hates this so much because this is the problem, isn’t it, stupid biology ruining his fucking life. Controlling him.

 

Harry pulls himself out of Louis’ grasp and turns around, resting his head on the cool tile wall in an attempt to calm down.

 

“Baby is everything alright?” Louis asks, and of course he knows something is wrong, but he’s asking because he’s hoping Harry will tell him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry reasons, apologizing again, this time still facing the wall and not looking at the O behind him. “I wish I could hug you without- ughhh…“ he groans in frustration, feeling miserable.

 

“It’s okay honey, stop worrying. Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s just natural…” He comes closer and kisses Harry’s shoulder.

 

“I know, but-“ he sighs, speaking to the tile instead of Louis who is pressed up behind him. He lays his hands flat on the wall and spreads his fingers, focusing on the way the water drips down the tile. “You mean so much more to me than just someone to have sex with. I don’t want you to think that.”

 

“I promise I don’t think that, okay? Now will you tell me why you’re so upset?”

 

“You already know,” he whispers.

 

Louis kisses his other shoulder, and then starts down his spine. He gets all the way to Harry’s hips before he pulls away. “You’re right, I do know.”

 

Harry closes his eyes and wishes he could sink into the wall, wishes he could disappear. He’s still not saying it back.

 

“I really care about you, Harry. I wouldn’t be here if that wasn’t true. You know that. But I also think you know, um, how difficult this is, for me. I’m not ready right now, but I, um, I hope I am soon. I want to be able to tell you soon. I wish I could say it to you now. I just- can’t…”

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers to the wall. “I love you,” he repeats.

 

“Thank you. Thank you for caring so much about me,” Louis amends, before stepping out of the shower and leaving Harry alone once again.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

They make love hours later, deep in the shadowy space of the night. They make love despite Harry’s misery.

 

Harry lies there compliantly and lets Louis kiss all over his body, showing his love because he cannot yet declare it out loud. For some reason, the act makes Harry’s heart ache even more.

 

They fuck slowly, Harry the submissive this time, obediently letting the omega do as he pleases, obediently taking what Louis gives him and not asking for more. For once, neither one of them says a single word the entire time, aside from the soft moans of each other’s names into the darkness of the room. Louis gathers Harry’s wrists in his hands and presses them above his head against the pillowcase, crying out as Harry’s knot forms.

 

Like this, Harry knows they’ll be joined together for the next thirty minutes or so, so he waits until Louis collapses forward on his chest before he gently rolls them over so they’re both on their sides. Harry kisses Louis slowly like he wanted to the entire time they were fucking, and when their lips meet he feels a sense of warmness spread throughout his belly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Louis murmurs once they pull back to catch their breath. He buries his face in Harry’s chest, snuggling closer.

 

Harry knows there are a lot of things to be sorry about, but none of them are Louis’ fault. He cradles Louis closer, caressing his hips and back, enjoying the feeling of holding him so close that there’s no space between them.

 

“I’m so glad I get to have you,” he says. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

 

Louis smoothes his palm out along the side of Harry’s ribcage and hikes his leg up so it’s wrapped around Harry’s hip. The movement shifts them just enough that Harry moans in pleasure.

 

“Me too, baby.”

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

The following weekend, Louis agrees to accompany Harry to the gym.

 

They change in separate locker rooms, one for A’s and one for O’s, and reconvene in the hallway. When Harry’s eyes land on Louis in athletic shorts and a cut-off top, he can’t help but smile.

 

He leads them down the hallway, to the last door on the left where the kickboxing room is. It’s large and spacious, half the floor covered in soft mats and the other half just the hard concrete. In the center there’s a ring where two alphas are fighting, their grunts heard faintly over the large fans circulating the air in the corner. Throughout the room, various bags are hanging from the ceiling. Harry guides Louis over to the softer floor and finds an empty spot where there are no bags. He sets their water bottles down and kicks off his shoes.

 

“Why are you doing that?” Louis asks, referring to his shoes.

 

“We’re gonna work on the basics first, and for those it’s better without shoes. This way we can really work on stability, which is one of the most important aspects to fighting. If you aren’t stable, you don’t stand a chance.”

 

“Okay, got it.” Louis slips off his shoes without protest.

 

“Alright, first off we’re going to work on your stance. It’s crucial to have a good stance because your stance is all about stability. So I’m going to show you how to stand and then I want you to imitate me.”

 

Harry stands in his perfected athletic stance, shifting his right foot ahead of his left and spreading his feet wide enough that he won’t topple over. He bends his knees slightly so they’re not locked, and squares his hips forward. Louis mimics him dutifully.

 

“Good!” Harry praises. “Just, straighten your back a little more, lift your chin, keep your core tight- That’s it, perfect. Okay, now I’m gonna show you how to hold your arms. This is the first move we’re gonna do, and it’s a basic block. I want you to bring your arms up, close your fists, like this- yep, exactly. Just, be careful—you don’t want your arms up so high that your middle is unprotected; you kinda have to protect your stomach and your face at the same time. That’s it, good- Awesome! Alright, you feel good?”

 

Louis nods, laughing a little. Harry can’t help but smile at him fondly.

 

For the next hour, Harry goes through all the basic moves, starting with a simple jab, and then moving onto hooks, uppercuts, and finally kicks. They spend a lot of time on defense more than aggressive moves, because Harry is keeping in mind that if Louis ever needs to defend himself, it’ll probably be against an alpha that is inarguably stronger than Louis. Therefore it’s more beneficial to focus on the protective moves rather than the aggressive ones, since protection is more useful in the case of a small, slight omega.

 

Harry tries his hardest to ignore the gazes of the curious onlookers around the gym, knowing that it is a pretty unusual scene, since Louis is the only omega in the room. In fact, there probably hasn’t been an omega in the room in years. Now that Harry thinks about it, it’s quite sad. This has been, for years, a space almost exclusively for alphas, save for the occasional beta tagging along with his A friends.

 

If Louis is uncomfortable with all the A’s staring at him and Harry, most definitely wondering what in the world Harry is doing teaching an O how to throw a punch, he doesn’t show his uneasiness. Instead he fiercely imitates the moves Harry shows him, each punch packed with an extra bit of something that looks a lot like suppressed rage.

 

By the end of their allotted hour, the pair are both out of breath and sweaty. Harry finally ends their little session, allowing them both to relax and grab some water.

 

“I’m so proud of you,” Harry praises, smiling widely, “you’re such a quick learner and you’re really getting the hang of it. Must faster than I did, that’s for sure. Good job.”

 

“Thanks,” Louis accepts quietly, smiling into the compliments.

 

Harry pulls his shirt over his head, bunching it up in his hands, and then uses it to wipe the sweat off his face.

 

Louis narrows his eyes. “What are you doing?”

 

“What?”

 

Louis points at the shirt in his hands, and then at Harry’s bare torso. “You’re doing that on purpose, you cocky showoff.”

 

“I mean, I’m not gonna deny it…”

 

Louis rolls his eyes, but Harry can see the humor shining in them. “Well what if I took _my_ shirt off?”

 

Harry frowns and glances around the room, noting all the A’s, everywhere. Half of them are staring at Harry and Louis, observing their interaction. “Um, hell no.” Then he clears his throat, realizing how possessive he sounds (and knowing it’s something Louis dislikes), amending, “I mean, um. Please don’t.”

 

He just shakes his head, rolling his eyes even more exaggeratedly this time. “You’re ridiculous. You know that, right?”

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

“I don’t know what I did without you,” Louis admits that night, to the darkness of the room, as they’re snuggled up beneath the duvet, facing each other.

 

Harry smiles softly and reaches forward to kiss Louis deeply. “Me too,” he exhales as they detach lips.

 

“No, I’m serious. I don’t know- Just, like, looking back. Everything just seems so awful. Like, being alone, trying to deal with everything on my own… I don’t know how I did it. I’m just so glad I have you.”

 

“You did it on your own because you’re strong, and that’s something you can do. Something I envy. But I’m glad I can make it easier for you.”

 

“You make the whole world lighter for me,” Louis whispers into his skin.

 

An affectionate noise slips out of Harry’s throat, and he wraps his omega in his arms and holds him close. “You make it lighter for me too, baby. Without even trying you make it lighter for me.”

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

They spend every day at the gym, after Harry’s classes and Louis’ football practices, and by the end of the week Louis is almost a pro. He’s gained enough skills to actually be able to stand his own against Harry in a fight. Not that it’s anywhere near an even match, and not that Harry’s not going easy on him, but still.

 

In fact, he gets some really good punches in, and actually manages to hit Harry in the face, hard.

 

“Ow,” Harry says, more out of shock than pain.

 

Louis’ eyes widen comically as he lowers his hands. “Shit, oh my god, I did not mean to do that. Sorry.”

 

“No, no, that was good,” Harry rushes to assure, opening and closing his mouth to flex his jaw. “Just give me a second. Okay, I’m good now.”

 

“Okay…” Louis says wearily.

 

“Let’s work on what you should do if someone comes up behind you,” Harry suggests, spinning Louis around so he’s facing away from him. “Remember what I told you?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Good. Ready?”

 

“Yes sir,” Louis responds facetiously.

 

Harry approaches him from behind and wraps his arms tightly around Louis. Louis makes quick work of elbowing Harry in the stomach, hard enough to cause him to loosen his grip, even knocking the wind out of him. Harry tries to hold on even as Louis twists his arm at an unnatural angle just like Harry told him to do, but he fails and Louis breaks free.

 

“Good-“ Harry begins to say, but apparently Louis isn’t finished because he swings around and runs straight into Harry, effectively tackling him to the ground.

 

Harry lies flat on his back, his feet knocked out from under him, and stares up at the ceiling in surprise.

 

“Hah!” Louis declares, triumphant. He sits down on Harry’s hips and pins Harry’s hands above his head, pressing them down into the mat. “I win.”

 

Harry allows him to have his little moment of victory, enjoying the feeling of Louis’ bum on top of his hips for a minute. Then, using his body weight, he easily flips them over so that the O is beneath him.

 

“Sure you did,” Harry says cheekily, holding both of Louis’ wrists in one hand.

 

“You’re an asshole.”

 

“Sorry, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity,” Harry gloats, kissing Louis’ nose before releasing his wrists and standing up. He holds out a hand and Louis takes it, allowing Harry to pull him up.

 

“In all seriousness,” Harry admits, “I think you stand a pretty good chance, especially if you have the element of surprise on your side. I’m really impressed—you’re such a quick learner.”

 

“Maybe you’re just a good teacher,” Louis counters, and it’s meant as a retort but it comes out as a compliment.

 

Harry leans over and kisses him, not caring who sees.

 

Actually, he may kind of be putting on a show, so that all the other A’s in the room who are curiously gazing over them can see that bite-mark or no bite-mark, Louis is Harry’s and Harry’s alone.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

“Hey H?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Does your mum know about us?”

 

Harry blushes. “Umm, kinda, yeah… Why?”

 

Harry had actually called her right after Louis showed up at the coffee shop while Harry was revising for an exam and asked for a favor, so many months ago. He had been miserable and upset, completely torn, and she had listened to him for nearly an hour, ranting and complaining and worrying, before she finally stepped in and told him relax. By the time he called her he had already agreed to Louis’ request, but that was when the real apprehension began.

 

So it’s safe to say that Harry’s mum is up to date on everything that’s been going on the past few months.

 

“No reason,” Louis says nonchalantly. Then he looks back up at Harry from his spot on the couch and admits, “actually, I’m wondering what our plans are for the holidays.”

 

“Oh, right. The holidays.” Harry stares at the wall blankly and tries to think of something that would work for both of them. “I’m assuming you’ll want to be with your family on Christmas Eve, right? Because of your birthday, and, um, your mum?”

 

Louis smiles softly and doesn’t flinch at the mention of his mum, but his eyes are tinged with bitter sadness. Harry crawls forward on the couch and tries to kiss him better. He caresses Louis’ face in his hands and kisses him reverently.

 

“I want to stay for Christmas morning, too. For the little ones.”

 

Harry nods, agreeing. “That’ll work. Then we can go to my mum’s for Christmas dinner, right?”

 

“Yeah, I like that. Good plan.”

 

“Thanks. That was easy.”

 

“Very,” Louis agrees.

 

They sit together in pleasant, pensive silence. Harry still has his arms wrapped loosely around Louis’ shoulders, and he’s halfway sitting on his lap. He rests his cheek on Louis’ shoulder and snuggles closer. For an A, Harry is pretty clingy. Sometimes he thinks their roles are completely reversed. Then he resolves that maybe they should just disregard their roles altogether.

 

Things aren’t perfect—far from it, actually. But Harry has been this happy since he was a kid. And, well. That’s something, isn’t it? That’s definitely something.

 

“I think, um- I think… I think my mum would be happy.”

 

“Mmm?” Harry mumbles, dizzy from breathing in the ambrosial scent of Louis’ neck for so long.

 

“That we’re together, I mean. She always liked you.” Louis laughs lightly, sounding as though he’s lost in thought. “She always thought it was you, whenever I told her I was dating someone else.”

 

“Oh?” Harry is more surprised than he should be. He also is actively trying to calm the small feeling of burning rage in his gut at the mention of Louis dating other people.

 

“Yeah,” Louis confirms, placing his palms flat to Harry’s back and rubbing up and down. His touch is calming, soothing, just like a bondmate’s touch should feel. The only thing is, Louis and Harry aren’t bondmates. “It was just wishful thinking, I think. She knew I refused to talk to you, but she was always hoping, I guess.”

 

Louis sounds sad, or guilty. Or both. Like he thinks he let his mum down or something. Harry’s heart hurts, as if it’s tied to Louis’. He needs to fix this. But he doesn’t know how.

 

“She knows we’re together now,” Harry says, pressing his palm to Louis’ chest. Feeling his heartbeat. “And she’s happy about it. That’s all that matters.”

 

“Right.” But Harry can tell Louis doesn’t fully believe it.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Thursday is date night, and this week it’s Louis’ turn.

 

Harry sighs, relieved, when he steps into their flat, returning from his last class of the day. He’s glad this one’s on Louis because last week it was his idea—the rom-com at the movie theater—and that one really was a disaster.

 

“Hey, baby honey,” Harry greets when he sees Louis in the living room, sitting on the floor stretching his calves. He’s been sore from footy all week; Harry makes a mental note to offer Louis a massage later. “What’re we doin’ tonight?”

 

“Fall stuff. Outside. Dress warm.”

 

Harry beams, heart fluttering stupidly. “I love fall stuff.”

 

Louis rolls his eyes, but his resulting smile is fond. “I know you do, Haz.”

 

“Dinner?”

 

“Got it covered. Go get dressed.”

 

They’re out the door just after the sun is down, and the sky is dark and shadowy but not yet black. Autumn is Harry’s favorite time of year and he is so, so unbelievably excited to share it with someone he loves. Finally.

 

As it turns out, Louis drives them out to a farm that has fun activities during the night. Most of it is child-oriented, but Harry has never been opposed to acting like a five-year-old for a few hours, so they make the most of it and find themselves enjoying the night more than they ever could imagined.

 

They start by walking through the apple orchards with baskets in their hands. It’s too dark to really see much and it’s not very ideal for picking apples, but the guy who runs the events said they were free to walk through and sample some of the apples if they wanted, as long as they were respectful. Harry and Louis decide to share a honey crisp, and then after that they just mess around in the rows upon rows of apple trees. At one point Harry picks up three fuji’s from the ground and begins to juggle them, even throwing in a few tricks. Louis applauds him in encouragement, laughing the entire time.

 

After apple-picking they head back to the main building and shop around, spending an unnecessary amount of time in the bakery and fantasizing about eating all the different treats. It smells so good, Harry thinks he could stay in the bakery forever.

 

When they leave the building they head to the right in search of the corn maize, but instead stumble upon a pen full of goats. There’s a sign on the fence, and Harry struggles to see it in the dark, so he uses the flashlight on his phone and sees it says _PET ME_.

 

“Ohhh my gosh you are the CUTEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN,” Harry cries, diving his hand down and petting the goat that had trotted up to the fence curiously. He scratches behind the goats horns and smiles when it pushes it’s head even further up into Harry’s hand. “I love goats,” he says, turning to Louis who is petting his own. “This is the best date ever,” he adds quietly.

 

Louis turns to him, smiling. “Glad you’re having fun. We’ll definitely have to come back here. They don’t want us to leave,” he says, gesturing to the swarm of goats waiting for their turn to be pet by Harry and Louis.

 

“Awwwww,’ Harry coos as they try their best to pet each of the goats. They wave goodbye, promising to be back soon, and then head back in the other direction in search of the corn maze, following the signs pointing them in that direction.

 

The rest of the night includes Harry and Louis running around in the corn maze, more lost and confused than they’ve ever been. It gets so bad that eventually they give up and Harry dials the number he saved in his phone that the woman at the table before the maze gave them, telling them to call if they needed help getting out. By this point, Louis has been yelling at Harry to “call the corn police” for about thirty minutes now, but Harry has been a bit stubborn and determined to get them out of the maze. Eventually he gives up and gives in, calling the number and sighing exasperatedly.

 

As they wait for the corn police to rescue them, the only good thing is Louis cuddling into his back to savor their body heat, since the night is getting colder by the second. They’re both dressed warm in jeans, jumpers, and jackets, but after spending so long outside, all of the warmth they’ve been accumulating has vanished. Cuddling is clearly the only option.

 

An older beta dressed in overalls comes to find them, and leads them out of the maze. It’s actually really simple to get out, making Harry feel stupid when he realizes they were running in circles for nearly two hours, when the exit was right there.

 

On the way home, Harry offers to drive, and Louis plugs his phone into the aux cord. Harry is surprised to hear Christmas songs flooding the car. Louis turns the volume up unreasonably high and rolls down the windows before screaming the lyrics to the entirety of Michael Bublé’s Christmas album.

 

Harry finds himself laughing so hard he’s afraid he’ll crash the car.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

By the time they get back home, they’re frozen and exhausted.

 

Harry strips off his jeans but leaves his jumper on, and Louis does the same. After brushing their teeth, they dive into bed together and entangle themselves beneath the duvet.

 

Pressing his nose into the junction between Louis’ jaw and shoulder, Harry inhales deeply and enjoys the wonderful, sweet-smelling aroma of the omega. He can’t help but lick the spot with his tongue, fighting his body which is screaming at him to sink his teeth into the soft, aphrodisiac skin.

 

His heart is greedy, gluttonous. His heart wants a lot.

 

His physiology wants even more, though. The alpha within him—the alpha that _is_ him—wants _everything_.

 

Harry pulls away, startled by his own thoughts. Afraid of the disgusting desire charged like electricity below his skin.

 

“Lou?”

 

“Mm?”

 

“We should, um, talk. About this.”

 

Louis scoots away from him until Harry’s arms fall from his grasp on Louis’ waist and he can’t reach him anymore. The distance between them is chilling, empty, a void that suddenly seems insurmountable. A barrier between them that suddenly becomes unsurpassable.

 

The omega turns away and carefully lies down on his back, rigid and unmoving once he’s settled, and stares up at the ceiling with eyes that convey apathy and dispassion. Harry waits, breath bated, for him to speak.

 

“I know I um… told you I wanted you to bond me, a while ago. And you said _soon_ and we were both okay with that.” He pauses, then closes his eyes. As if he’s gathering strength. He doesn’t reopen them. “I know I said that but lately I’ve been thinking that’s not really what I want, so. Yeah. And I’m sorry but I’m not going to apologize for something I believe in, so don’t expect me to. So what I’m trying to say is, I like you and what we’re doing is fun. But. If you’re not okay with us in a relationship but not bonded, then you might as well find another O. So.”

 

Harry lies there, still as a statue just like Louis. He’s confused, in need of clarification. “You don’t… believe in bonding?”

 

A sigh escapes Louis’ lips, quiet and feather-light. “As an O? No, I don’t.”

 

Harry closes his eyes too, watching the future he’s always wanted just… slip away. Finding a mate, falling in love, bonding, having kids, all of that. Just. Gone.

 

But… but. Well.

 

Well, there’s this boy. This man? This omega. This human being. And. Well. Harry has been in love with him for years. For as long as he can recall. Since the very beginning, probably.

 

So he lets that idyllic future slip away and does his very best to welcome the unknown.

 

“I love you,” he says, voice unshakable and surprisingly steady, considering the maelstrom of emotions within him right now. “I want to be with you, in any way you’ll have me. Neither one of those things has changed.”

 

There, he said it. The truth, nothing but the truth, nothing but raw honesty.

 

Louis doesn’t say anything at all. Harry looks over at him to see his face impassive, but his eyes are watering with tears.

 

“I don’t care about bonding,” he adds as an afterthought, flipping over onto his side and propping his head up on his hand, resting his chin on his palm. “I don’t care about bonding, I just care about you.”

 

Louis stares at him. Then he starts crying, silent tears streaming down his cheeks, dripping onto the bed. He closes his eyes and paws at the contrails. Harry starts crying too.

 

“You’re just saying that,” the omega accuses, covering his face with his hands and speaking into his palms so his voice is muffled.

 

“No I’m not, it’s the truth. I love you.”

 

“You only think you love me because I’m an O. It’s just hormones, it’s just biology. You wouldn’t say you loved me if I wasn’t an O.”

 

“No,” Harry argues, somewhat affronted and indignant, but mostly just unbelievably sad. “You’re wrong Lou. Get that fucking idea out of your head. I love you as an O, and I’d love you as a B, and I’d love you as an A-“

 

“You wouldn’t-“

 

“Yes! Yes I would! And do you wanna know why? Because I love _you_ , Lou. YOU, not your gender, not your biology, not any of that because honestly I don’t give a fuck about that.”

 

Louis sits up, rubbing at his face, and turns to Harry with a steely, dark look in his eyes. “No, Harry. You think that’s true but it’s just your biology. It’s just your stupid A hormones telling you that you love me, because it’s evolutionarily beneficial to the human race! It doesn’t count! It’s not real love!”

 

With that, he throws himself out of bed before Harry has a chance to do anything but sit there in shock.

 

Only when the bedroom door slams shut does Harry snap out of his astonishment.

 

_What the fuck just happened?_

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

By the time Harry gains enough lucidity to actually move, he scampers out of bed and bolts down the hall, searching for Louis.

 

He isn’t in the living room.

 

He isn’t in the kitchen.

 

Harry doubles back, heart pounding, and checks the bathroom. Empty.

 

_Shit. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no._

 

He runs to the door and hastily throws on a pair of shoes, whichever pair he grabs first. He’s already out of the flat and to his car by the time he realizes the shoes aren’t his own—they’re Louis’, and a few sizes too small. No matter. Not the time to worry about his fashion choices, nor the comfort of his feet.

 

Before he starts to drive he calls Louis, and of course he doesn’t answer. Harry sends a string of frantic texts anyways, knowing there’s no way Louis is going to check his phone anytime soon. Then he climbs in his car and starts the ignition, wondering where the fuck he should even drive to.

 

It takes him decidedly too long to realize where Louis is.

 

_Of course._

 

Harry knows exactly where it is, and now he has no doubt that Louis is going there right now. It’s not too far of a drive, and they used to go there all the time when they were kids. They loved to play on the rocks and to overlook the city, especially when the sun was falling beyond the horizon and the lights of the metropolis below began to glow…

 

Of course he’s going to the precipice, of course. It’s part of the park system in the area, and there’s this one little spot where cars can pull off to the side and people can get out and take in the view. It’s a lovely view, really. Harry hasn’t been here since uni.

 

When he gets there, he sighs in relief when he sees Louis’ car parked, and feels his shoulders relax, if only slightly. He throws himself out of his car and stumbles down the path through the woods that leads to the overlook.

 

Harry scents him before he sees him. The beautiful, sweet smell of the omega he’s become so fond of floods his senses, and in the scent his distinguishes anxiety and fear. Sadness, too.

 

He’s there. Just there, on the edge of the precipice, standing with his back to the trail. He’s in nothing but the joggers and t-shirt he left the flat in, and his arms are wrapped around himself tightly. The wind blows in Louis’ direction and he looks up sharply, eyes meeting Harry’s.

 

“Please just leave me the fuck alone,” he says, attempting at an acerbic tone, cold eyes on Harry, but it has no bite. He just sounds tired. Exhausted.

 

Harry just shakes his head no, but he doesn’t step any closer.

 

“I will give you space,” he reasons. “I don’t want to suffocate you. But I also need you to know that I am by your side. I am _on_ your side, as well.”

 

Louis turns back around, facing away from the alpha, and screams into his hands in frustration.

 

When he calms down, Harry says, “I will be here. I love you. When you’re ready, let me show you… Take your time, though. Okay?”

 

Louis doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even turn around. Harry remains a moment before walking back to his car.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Forty minutes later, Harry looks up from where he’s curled in the front seat, and sees Louis walking out of the woods. He hurriedly unlocks the car door and turns up the heat. Louis opens the door and gets in the passenger’s seat without saying a word.

 

They sit like that for a long while, just silent and listening to the sound of the heat pouring out of the vents.

 

“I’m sorry,” Louis whispers, wrapping his arms around himself. Making himself small.

 

“I am too,” Harry says, equally quiet.

 

“I just… I need time.”

 

Harry smiles, but he knows it’s a measly excuse of a smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll wait for you.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Time passes. Days fall away.

 

Louis plans to visit his family preemptively, like a holiday before the actual holiday. Harry busies himself with school, doing god-knows-what he did before Louis came into his life so many months ago.

 

The day Louis leaves, Harry kisses him on the mouth, hard. _Don’t forget me_ , he pours into it, silently. _Don’t forget me._

+

 

 

 

 

They’re both kind of really miserable, separated. It matters and it doesn’t, all at the same time.

 

For Harry, the distance does nothing but strengthen his affection. He thinks of Louis constantly; finds his mind obsessed with him. Again, it’s as if they’re bonded without really being bonded, and Harry hasn’t the mind or the heart to consider what that means.

 

To busy himself in the days Louis is gone, Harry goes to the gym. He kickboxes until he’s too exhausted to stand, and then he complains to Liam until Liam tells him to shut up and go home.

 

He finally starts that self-defense class he’s been talking about for eons, too. A fair amount of omegas show up for the first session, even on such short notice. Harry knows Louis would be proud. Harry just wishes he was here to share this moment with him.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

Louis returns a week and a half before Christmas with fresh tears in his eyes.

 

Harry has just finished his last final, and he’s standing in the kitchen drinking a cup of peppermint tea because his stomach hurts from skipping lunch for his exam. The door opens, startling him. There’s the sound of shoes being kicked off, and keys set on the ceramic dish on the table beside the door.

 

“Harry?”

 

He turns and smiles, unable to help the implicit reaction to Louis’ voice and his scent.

 

“Hey, Lou.”

 

Louis approaches him slowly, and in the dim lighting, his eyes shine with unshed tears.

 

Harry opens his arms, beckoning him. The omega complies, collapsing into them.

 

“I missed you,” he moans, pressing his face into Harry’s shoulder.

 

Harry rocks him back and forth gently, on the verge of tears as well. He hopes to god this shitty era will be over soon, and they’ll be happy again.

 

“I missed you too, I’m so sorry.”

 

“I’m so stupid,” he moans again.

 

Harry pulls away to kiss the bow of his cheek. He leads them to the couch and sits them down, Louis sitting comfortably on top of him, their arms wound tightly around each other as if they’re both afraid to let go.

 

Louis starts the conversation—the important one they’ve been meaning to have all these months. The conversation that has previously always ended in argument.

 

Today, it ends in a long hard that never really ends, seeing as they fall asleep on the couch together, wrapped up in each other.

 

It’s important and exactly what they needed. Louis finds the strength and the will to verbalize what he’s desired to say for so many months now.

 

He doesn’t say _I love you_ , but the words are there beneath the surface—beneath confessions like _I’m afraid of being trapped_ and _there’s so much that isn’t okay, no matter how hard I try_.

 

He doesn’t say _I love you_ but it doesn’t matter. Harry can feel Louis’ love for him when they kiss.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

“I love you. Do you-“ Harry breaks away to moan loudly, and it’s pretty obscene, “-believe me?”

 

Louis, from beneath him, closes his eyes and grabs onto Harry’s biceps, squeezing tightly. Other than this, he doesn’t respond.

 

“Louis,” Harry warns, mid-thrust. Louis keens in response, but still doesn’t say anything.

 

“Louis,” he says again, nudging his face into the crook of Louis’ neck. “I love you,” he repeats, slowly. “Do you believe me?”

 

There’s a pause as Harry stills inside him, knot swelling.

 

“Yes,” Louis breathes, finally, a warm breath of air beside Harry’s ear.

 

Harry sniffs him to see if he’s lying. His scent conveys nothing but honesty. He laughs lightly, and attacks the omegas neck in kisses.

 

“I love you,” he tells him again and again and again, all the while they’re still attached. Even a half hour later, when Harry slips out slowly and carefully, wincing, he repeats the three words a million times into Louis’ skin. All the way until they fall asleep together.

 

Even then, he dreams it.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

As most things do, this takes time.

 

Luckily, Louis and Harry are both pretty good at taking things slow. They live day by day, week by week, month by month. They go at their own pace, and they both know there’s nothing wrong with that.

 

Louis will say _I love you_ when he’s ready, since Harry already spilled those three words ages ago. And Harry will bond him when they are both ready. There’s no need to rush, no need to scramble, no need to make hasty decisions that will bind them for life.

 

Louis changes his mind about the subject of bonding, and blame it on social pressure or biology or any external factor, but by the time they’re ready Harry is certain Louis really, truly wants it.

 

When he had told Harry he didn’t want to be bonded to anyone, ever, it was a strange sort of test. Louis explains this now, on their official one-year anniversary of courting. He blushes and feels guilty but Harry is as understanding as he can be, and he is always practicing his empathy.

 

“Did I pass?” Harry asks, teasing.

 

“Of course you did, you absolute knothead.”

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

The self-defense training for omegas really kicks off in the summer, and Harry finds himself with a part time job at the gym, teaching kick-boxing classes in the evenings and on the weekends. Louis attends most of them, even if he just sits against the wall and enjoys watching Harry demonstrate the moves to the class full of O’s.

 

It may be a small victory, but Harry is glad they’re making a difference. Hopefully, with some pressure, others will follow suit, and self-defense training for omegas will not be such a radical pursuit. It’s been so long since that night at the movie theater, but Harry is still so frightened that something bad will happen to Louis, or, in all honesty, and O. It isn’t fair, not one bit, but they do what they can.

 

It may be a small victory, but Louis loves him for it. He watches with pride as Harry teaches hundreds of people the basics of fundamental protection, and it makes his heart swell.

 

Each step forward may be just that—a step. But a step in the right direction is a step nonetheless. And that’s what matters most, the fact that they’re moving forward. Not just as individuals, but as a society as a whole, too.

 

It may be a small victory, but it’s an important one.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

The day Louis first says _I love you_ to Harry, Louis doesn’t even notice it slipped out until he looks at Harry and sees he’s crying, and there’s the brightest god damn smile on his silly face.

 

Louis just looks at him and bites his lip, shaking his head. Harry engulfs him in his arms and they kiss the rest of the day.

 

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

 

It isn’t perfect, but nothing ever truly is. Their relationship is _real_ , and that counts for something.

 

More than something. That counts for _everything_.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh thank you for reading! Leave a comment or [reblog the fic post](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/166730181079/and-forever-is-like-this-endless-but-definite-by) and I'll love you forever.
> 
> <3


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